


rosebud

by meowcosm



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Hair-pulling, Love Bites, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Pregnant Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:48:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27363016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowcosm/pseuds/meowcosm
Summary: Hilda takes tender care of her wife, six months into her pregnancy.For Kinktober 2020: Nipple Play.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41
Collections: kinktober 2020





	rosebud

**Author's Note:**

> first marihilda, i hope people like it!
> 
> EDIT: I screwed up and tagged this major character death for a while- NOBODY DIES HERE SORRY

Hilda’s hands come to cup the swollen surface of Marianne’s stomach as she straddles her thighs, lathing her swollen areolas with kisses and little bites. Taut against her tongue, Hilda quickly finds herself skirting the sensitive flesh with the tip of her teeth and sucking on the pale mounds underneath whenever she gets a chance. 

“...Mmmh… Ah, Hilda…”

Marianne’s excitement, even wrapped as it is in a twitching, eyes-diverted package, is all Hilda needs to keep going with her ministrations. Just beneath the pink tip of Marianne’s breast, she sucks until it’s almost inevitable that she’ll form a hickey underneath, pressure bruising the tenderness so sublimely that Hilda can’t help the instinct to make another one bubbling up inside her before she’s even finished with her first. It’s an instinct that she pushes back against, though, as she draws back to face Marianne from above. 

No part of Hilda can deny that she looks beautiful. Almost ethereal, her diligently-braided hair spread against the pillow supporting her back, which Hilda knows has recently begun to ache. Briefly, she ducks down to press a kiss to the swollen bump that’s formed on her wife over the course of months, humming once her lips have withdrawn from the less-tender flesh. 

“Oh, you look absolutely gorgeous.” Hilda moans, one hand drifting from Marianne’s stomach to the base of her breast. “I hope you know how wonderful you look right now. I feel almost bad putting all those little marks on you, really.”

A blush alight on her face, Marianne nods.

“Y-yes, well. I’d like you to continue, if you’ll oblige me.”

“Of course, my little daisy. Who am I if I don’t give you everything you want?”

Straightening out above her, Hilda’s lips meet the swollen buds of Marianne’s nipples unhesitatingly, gracing them with gentle, exploratory licks before sucking, insistent, on the pert and peach-toned peaks. Marianne rolls underneath her, hands unsteady, clinging desperately to the smooth hills of Hilda’s hips as lip-biting sensation washes over her in waves, rendering her helpless, entirely contained within Hilda’s steadying clutch. 

Her toes curl in on themselves as Hilda slips a finger, idle, into her pussy, already swollen and sensitive. It brushes against her clit, rubbing up against the perpetual ache of her new body, each exhilarating wave different from how it had once been, before any of this- novel, vivid, almost frighteningly _unreal_. Even the pleasure of Hilda sucking at her breasts is near-overwhelming for Marianne, whose restraint chafes each time Hilda’s tongue grows more insistent, more demanding, against the flat planes of her tender breasts. The finger doesn’t help- but in the last conscious part of her brain, Marianne wonders, idly, if it’s even necessary. 

She’s never been able to come just from Hilda sucking, practically groping her breasts with her mouth- but the edge feels unbearably close, and resisting the urge to fall wailing against her love is akin to that of dragging feet across hard stone, a defiance of an inevitability. 

When Hilda grazes her areola with her teeth, _gentle_ despite the marks she’s left everywhere else, Marianne can’t decide in the split-second prior to her orgasm whether to curse or bless her pregnancy for _this_ , how unbecoming she must seem, so easily undone by Hilda’s ruthless, loving care. As soon as she comes to, she’s frighteningly aware of the fluid that’s running down the inside of her thigh, no doubt soaking Hilda’s hands and the bedsheets beneath both of them. Yet under the weight of herself, and her climax, and Hilda, everything is much too heavy, much too _much_ , for her to sit up and bashfully clean the clear, viscous secretion from her skin. 

Marianne groans- only to find her troubles quickly addressed by Hilda, whose tongue lifts swiftly from her tender breasts to the space between her thighs, increasingly dark and goose-bumped over the past few months. At the sight of Hilda licking at the fluid, Marianne fails to suppress a pitchy gasp, nor a wail of pleasure she thought already exhausted.

“H-Hilda.” Her breathing ragged, Marianne realizes quickly that however authoritative she might want to seem, she’s almost certainly falling short. “Y-you should know that I’ve already finished once. It’s not necessary for you to try and- _ah_ \- make me finish again. At least not without me touching you.”

Hilda doesn’t respond. Rather, her tongue intrudes on the warm wetness between Marianne’s thighs, parting her lips with a sly smile on her face, buried underneath the shadow of Marianne’s bump, almost parallel with the sunrise-blue streak of hair cascading down its centre. Marianne yelps, caught in the wave of heightened sensation, barely able to adapt to the feeling of being empty before Hilda’s tongue laps at her with great interest, close to _feasting_ on her slick pleasure. Another time when she’s seen Hilda so ravenous eludes Marianne- she supposes that it must have been even truer than she’d thought, the promise of continued desire that Hilda had made to her upon the discovery of her successfully taking to her _condition_.

Worked up and febrile, and with little on her mind other than finding some way to make the sensation of being touched with such deep affection linger for as long as possible, Marianne balls a hand into a fist around a clump of Hilda’s pink hair and pulls it taut around her scalp, encouraging her to continue, to keep pressing, unconcerned with any potential of overwhelming her. It’s close to drunkenness, Marianne half-consciously decides, the closest she’s gotten to the heady warmth of mead running through her body for six months. A wonderful, inebriating thing, working her down to the point that she loses control- her hips snap forward, plucked like a bowstring, becoming lax again only when she’s ridden out another fruitful climax.

More of her come stains Hilda’s face- only half-visible under the shadow of her swollen stomach, Marianne still swears that her makeup is running. She _almost_ manages to apologize for it- but before she fully pieces the words together, Hilda practically purrs into her, sending her into a dizzy spell that Marianne isn’t sure she can recover from. 

“You’re so sensitive,” teases Hilda, briefly drawing back from Marianne’s pussy and unmuffling herself, though still hovering her tongue over her clit. “Is it too much?”

The way Hilda is saying it- it sounds to Marianne like she’s offering clemency, or respite. A relief from _her_ desires, _her_ relentless pleasuring. But, as crude as it is, Marianne balks at the idea of giving up, of letting Hilda leave her like _this_. 

Her body _wants_ it- the weight of denying that is all too strong. Prior to her own pregnancy, Marianne _had_ read about the demands her new body might make of her, but she’d always assumed that she’d be exempt from the more carnal needs, easily-satisfied as she once was. Yet Hilda’s presence fills her with a lust that’s near-unmanageable, verging on desperate- Marianne practically _drags_ her face to the blood-flushed warmth between her thighs. 

Hilda gets the message. Her tongue is swift, breaching Marianne’s walls without needing to be prompted, already weak from her previous climaxes. Marianne howls at the sensation, contracting around Hilda’s lips, which pucker occasionally to leave soft kisses where the flesh is most tender. Her hands remain mostly uninvolved, save for where they’re holding Marianne’s thighs prone and open, but Marianne doesn’t ask for them. Her eyes are half-lidded, body hitching and flailing, little gasps bursting uncontrollably from her throat- she’s going to come, again, over Hilda- 

Eventually, she lets it happen. 

It’s like the opening of floodgates, the way her body eases into it, how it _knows_ what needs to be done. Hilda gasps from underneath- but Marianne knows it’s not a complaint, that it’s closer to an eager _thank you_. Her body trembles, yet Hilda’s hands are somehow everywhere, keeping her anchored. 

She’s there, too, when her instinctual resistance quells, as if it had never been at all. 

“Feeling good?”

There’s a pleasant hum in Hilda’s voice, that of a self-assured question, already knowing its answer. Marianne groans. 

“Yeah.”

She pauses, briefly, to parse a sensation in her chest, now the signal of so many different potentials. 

“I’m hungry, though.” Marianne sighs, meek. “After you’ve cleaned yourself up, would it trouble you to bring me some of the teacakes from downstairs?”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm @meowcosm on twitter! kudos and comments are appreciated


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